Team Gibbs
by fojee
Summary: Sequel to "Special Agent Harris, NCIS" in which Xander, now a full-pledged member of Team Gibbs, tries to reconcile his new life with his old. Can he really keep them apart?
1. Chapter 1

Team Gibbs

(Plus One)

By Fojee

Sequel to "Special Agent Harris, NCIS"

Disclaimer: BtVS and NCIS belong to Whedon and Bellisario and respective companies. I earn nothing but sweet, sweet reviews.

Synopsis: Rupert Giles lent money to a young man who needed a little push in the right direction. Xander Harris attended college, finished with a degree in criminology, and left Sunnydale in the capable hands of Faith and Angel. Willow Rosenberg and Tara McClay chose to stay in Cleveland, while Giles, Dawn and Spike have settled in England. After a stint at FLETC, a friend named Riley Finn recommended him to NCIS in Washington D.C., where he is now a special agent, working under Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Chapter One: Invitations

Follows the events of previous story.

_The occasion is piled high with difficulty. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country._

A. Lincoln

_And so each venture_

_Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate._

T.S. Eliot

---

Xander Harris had woken up that morning in a tizzy. He was sure that something was missing and he had to find it. He rushed around the house, opening closet doors, drawers and kitchen cabinets, counting the knives and axes in the box by his bed. It was when he saw the stash of blood in his refrigerator that he realized what the feeling meant: Dracula was gone.

He sat down heavily on the couch.

Tony was still in the hospital, kept overnight for observation. He was probably awake by now, flirting with the nurses and demanding to be checked out. Abby had sent him a text message the evening before, saying she was sleeping over at Kate's. They both had a scare and he didn't know who needed reassurance more. At this hour, Gibbs was probably sleeping off the bourbon, and Ducky was probably having breakfast with his mother. Meanwhile, he was in his living room, having a nervous breakdown.

His batphone rang, making him jump. He ran to his room and grabbed it from beneath his pillow. "Hello?" He answered breathlessly.

"Spike's driving me insane!" Dawn practically shouted at him.

Xander chuckled. "What's he done now?"

"He threatened to eviscerate my Ethics prof when I flunked a test. I almost got kicked out," Dawn complained. "I'm serious, Xander. I am _this_ close to throwing fireballs. This stalker thing was cute when I was fourteen, but now I need for you to take him far, far away, so he can stop ruining my life. It's bad enough he scares the shit out of any boy who even _looks_ at me!"

Xander's eyebrows rose. It did sound more serious than usual. "What did Giles say?"

"Dad says he'll pay for the ticket to Timbuktu or wherever, but I need for you to talk Spike into leaving."

"He there?"

Dawn peeked out her dorm window, down at the first floor. She narrowed her eyes at the glow of ember. "He's outside my window. Spike, Xander wants to talk to you," she called out, trusting his vamp hearing to pick it up. The ember fell to the ground and was snuffed out by someone's boot.

Spike slunk through the hallway of the Garden Quad, dragging his feet. God he was so pathetic, getting a scolding from Xander bloody Harris. He was only trying to look after his Nibblet. He didn't even flash fang at that stupid poofter of a prof.

When he reached Dawn's room, she handed him the phone, then closed the door in his face. Spike snarled soundlessly in her direction. "What?" He growled out at Harris.

"Dawn really wants you to go?"

"Like that matters," Spike retorted. "I'll be here til she's old and grey, Harris. I made that promise." He didn't speak her name; he never spoke her name.

Xander didn't have that problem. "I know that. And she knows it too. But if she believes you're just staying for Buffy's sake, then you being there just reminds her of what she's lost," Xander said. He was standing by the wall of photographs, looking at one with Dawn and Buffy on either side of Joyce.

"And you think the Watcher doesn't?" Spike shot back. "Look, I know I messed up with this professor, but she needs me."

"Does she really, Spike?" Xander asked wearily. "Dawn's eighteen. She's trying to be an adult, living a continent away from the Hellmouth. Right now, she's only in danger of gaining the freshman fifteen and flunking math or something. Or at the most, some drunken fratboy flirtation. She'll never be able to trust herself if you don't trust her to be on her own."

"I _do_ trust her. But if something happens to her, I'll never forgive myself," Spike said softly.

Xander fell silent before continuing, "If something happens to her, you can blame _me_. Giles said that area's pretty clean of oogly-booglies, coz it was Watcher territory. And you can only do so much against any human predators." Xander took a deep breath. "You just remind her of the dark, Spike. And everything that dwells there."

He waited for a second, but there was nothing, not even the sound of someone's breath. But then vampires did not breathe. "Just come here, Spike. Take Giles' money and come to D.C. Please?"

And then he heard the dial tone.

When Dawn opened the door—to berate Spike for racking up international minutes on her cell—there was no one there. Her phone was lying on the ground.

---

"Welcome to NCIS, Special Agent McGee," Tom Morrow said, extending a hand to the young man. "You've come very well-recommended."

Timothy McGee flushed with pride, accepting the handshake. "Thank you, sir."

He walked down the stairs a little unsteadily. When he got to the bullpen, he saw that the furthest desk on the right had been cleared. His stomach was churning and he felt lightheaded. But in a good way.

"Welcome to hell, probie," Tony said, grinning maniacally, but he wasn't even fazed. Kate rolled her eyes at the other agent and gave him a supportive smile. Xander slapped his arm and invited him out to celebrate. And Agent Gibbs _nodded_ at him.

This was what he had dreamed about for the longest time. He was now a field agent with his own badge and gun, and he'd solve crimes and arrest the bad guys. Someday, he'd even be a hero.

The feeling lasted just until they got called to work a case.

---

He almost vomited on the victim. If Xander hadn't hustled him out of the room, and shoved a bag at him, he'd have spewed all over the late Ensign Veracruz, contaminating whatever evidence Tony and Kate were gathering.

"It's a little different when you see them up close," Xander said sympathetically, after bringing him a bottle of water to clean his mouth. They were outside the tidy white house, standing by the car.

"I can smell and taste 'em, too," McGee mumbled. "Maybe I'm not ready for this."

"Dude, if I made it, so will you," the younger man reassured him. "Just concentrate on getting the job done."

"Still concentrating?" Gibbs asked sarcastically from the doorway. "Get those measurements done, McGee. Harris, get the witness statement."

"Yes, boss," Xander said, pulling out his notepad and heading to the old lady standing in front of the police officer. She was carrying a cat and it turned baleful green eyes onto him. "Nice kitty," he murmured under his breath. "Hi. I'm Special Agent Harris, NCIS. I'd like to ask you a few questions…"

McGee took a deep breath before heading inside the house again. It wasn't any easier the second time around. The body had been at it for awhile, and there were _creatures _feeding on the exposed flesh.

Fortunately, Tony's "green" jokes were excellent distractions. They helped him focus on something else long enough to keep the contents of his stomach to himself.

"Hey, Shrek, bag this, will you?"

"Tony!"

---

There was no warning. One evening, Spike just showed up on Xander's doorstep. It was late, past eleven. He had only just gotten home maybe five minutes before. They were working a hot case, and he and Tony stayed late handling paperwork and calling up some angry people. He was tired, more than ready to sleep, when somebody knocked.

He didn't even think. He opened the door, and jumped back. _Vampire_, his senses screamed, his hand grabbing for his stake, even as he recognized the bleached hair and the black leather duster. He cleared his throat, and tried to calm his heartbeat down. "Jeez, Spike."

Spike smirked at the boy's reaction. Well, he had to get his jollies somewhere. "You inviting me in, Harris?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Come in," he said resignedly. "So you came after all. How long will you stay?"

Spike shrugged. He noticed—and ignored—the strange feeling as he passed the doorway, a hint of magic in the air. "Depends. Why?"

"Because I'd have to ask Penny for another spelled key," Xander explained, running a hand through his hair, his mind going a mile a minute. "Well, the guest room's ready. And there are a few pints in the fridge. I'm not sure how to tell if they're expired or something."

"Why would you have blood?" Spike asked, before taking a deep breath. The smells—a mixture of sawdust and sunlight, and a certain annoying, irritatingly famous vampire—answered his question. His eyes turned yellow briefly, before returning to blue. "That damn gypsy hurt you?"

"No," Xander said, startled. "How did you… never mind. He helped me actually."

Spike snorted. "For a price, I suppose."

"Well he hasn't been by to collect. Not yet anyway," Xander muttered under his breath.

"Leave it to me," Spike said. "I'll deal with the bugger."

Xander looked at him suspiciously. "And why would I do that?"

"Well you're gonna feed me, aren't you? Keep me in Weetabix and pig's blood and my liquor? I have my needs." Spike eyed him wickedly, but he ignored the vampire's innuendo.

"You'd probably be more useful heading back to Sunnydale. Or maybe in Cleveland with the girls. There's not much here to fight," Xander said, sitting on the arm of the couch.

Spike's mouth tightened. He just got here and already… "So you're giving me the shove, too?" Dawn was still at St. John's College in Oxford. He had left her without a word, wanting to hurt her by his absence, though she might even be glad about it. _How the mighty have fallen._

Xander looked at the vampire's flat expression and was instantly repentant. "Actually, I think I'd better keep an eye on you. I don't trust you anywhere near a Hellmouth."

Spike smiled slightly. "That's right, pet. I'm still evil, I am." Then he caught sight of the wall and fell silent.

Xander took a step to stand beside him, just looking at the pictures. "I never did get any of yours," he mumbled. "Cordy sent one of Angel's, but it was too blurred."

Spike's eyes moved from the one of Buffy, Dawn and Joyce to a frazzled Wesley holding a baby. "That my nephew?"

"Uh, Connor, yeah. Everybody spoils him rotten. He'd be three now. Cordy sends photos but they're on my computer," Xander replied.

Spike just nodded. "So, this my room?" He said abruptly, opening the guest room door. Not waiting for an answer, he slammed it shut behind him.

Xander scratched the back of his neck, and just looked at the closed door. This was just going to go horribly wrong and he knew it.

---

Her school records still marked her as a Summers. Giles had respected her decision to keep her surname in memory of her mother and sister, but Dawn did not need to remember. She _was_ the reminder: Buffy's blood ran in her veins, and the scars on her stomach had yet to fade even years after. She knew Giles—dad, as she now thought of him—sometimes looked at her and found Buffy in a phrase or a gesture. And it hurt him, and it hurt her. But they could not let each other go.

And somehow they had built a life together, though dad and Spike had never gotten along.

She _knew_ the moment Spike left. The itch at the back of her neck disappeared. When she looked out her dorm window in the middle of the night, there was nothing but darkness. Having Spike around was like walking a particularly vicious dog; you get pulled in different directions, and no one dared come close. She should be relieved he was gone. But why did the night suddenly feel so empty?

---

"You know, you never did invite me over," Tony said from out of the blue one afternoon, while they were waiting for Abby's ballistic results. "How about we hold the next movie night at your place, Xander?"

"Ooh! Movie night!" Abby said in delight."Can I come, too?"

"We should invite everyone," Tony teased. "Kate, and Ducky, and Gibbs…"

"Gibbs would never come to a movie night," Xander scoffed. He knew the older man had no use for anything resembling pop culture.

"Shows what you know, Harris," Tony told him smugly. "I managed to make him watch _Air Force One_ a couple of years back. And we watched _Apocalypse Now_ and _Dogfight_ when I stayed over at his place."

"He let you _stay_ with him?" Xander shook his head; Gibbs was one of the most closed off people he knew. "He must really like you, Tony." Which was exactly what the other agent wanted to hear; Tony's grin stretched wide as a Cheshire cat's.

"Well, he likes _me_, too," Abby interrupted, showing them the slides from the microscope, and proving the bullet did not match their suspect's gun. "So between the two of us, we could have him over at your place this Friday night. I'll bring Bert," she said before dancing away again.

"Who's Bert?" Xander asked in an undertone.

"You'll uh, hear about it soon enough," Tony said with a laugh. "So I'm thinking should we go for some classic action stuff, or would you prefer horror? There's a new vampire movie out."

Xander paled. He had forgotten all about the undead guy at his place. "Wait. I-I don't think I can do Friday…"

"Why not?" Tony wagged his eyebrows suggestively. "You got a hot date?"

"No," Xander denied, "but I have to clear it with my roommate first."

Abby snuck up on them again. "You never told me you had a roommate, Xander!"

"Oh, I-I knew him in high school. He just needed a place to crash for a while," he babbled nervously.

"Well then it's the perfect time to meet him. In fact, we should hold a welcoming party. You buy the chips while I bring some CDs," Abby said excitedly. She loved an excuse to party. "I'll tell Kate and McGee, you guys get Gibbs and Ducky. And Jimmy, too. So what kind of music does your roommate like?"

Xander just groaned.

---

"You want me to _what_?"

"Act human for one night," Xander said calmly. "And be convincing, okay? If they spot something off about you, they won't stop until they know everything."

Spike rolled his eyes. "People will believe what they want to."

Xander sighed. "Let's just say that outside Sunnydale, some people actually put two and two together…"

"And get four, not twenty-two. They won't look at some pale guy and immediately come up with _vampire_."

Xander thought of Abby. "Wanna bet? Look, it's no big deal. Just don't let them feel your lack of pulse, and don't talk about your former victims."

Spike looked at him with derision. "I'm not the one who keeps his axe by the door, you ninny."

"Oh," Xander said, blinking. "Oh! Right! And I gotta warn the neighbors not to drop by."

Spike snorted. He sauntered to the fridge and opened it. True to his word, Xander brought home bags of human blood—often discards from a nearby hospital. "Guess I should finish these, then, before anyone wanders in for a look-see." He looked at Xander, who was collecting knives from the various places he had stashed them. "So what happens if they find out?"

Xander straightened and caught his gaze. "I don't know, Spike. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

---

A/N: Thanks for your patience. Spike made an unexpected appearance, which nobody seems to like. I have no idea what will happen next…


	2. Chapter 2

Team Gibbs

By Fojee

Chapter Two: Miss and Take

His first mistake was talking to his landlady.

He had asked Penny Jordan to 'relax' the anti-violence wards for the party, so that if a scuffle breaks out, nobody would get slammed into the walls by the magic. Telling Penny meant the news passed on to the other inhabitants in the building, from Veronica next door, to the Odal Tal twins on the first floor, to Arthur and his daughter Trixie, down to Kobal, who did not know that no meant no.

"Come on, my man. I be taking all my sugar, and nobody be any wiser. We be friends, aren't we?" The Treike'n had cornered him in the lobby, demanding an invite.

Xander shook his head. Even with his candy addiction held at bay, the black-skinned—and occasionally scaled—demon was dangerous to cross. Whenever Kobal felt threatened, his nostrils would flare, and shoot out a nasty gas that could paralyze him in seconds. "If something goes wrong, how would I explain it to them?"

Kobal pouted, his lower lip disturbingly red. "I be knowing when something be wrong. Then I just say goodbye and pop in next door," he said reasonably.

Xander chewed his inner cheek. "Just please, on point of death, promise me you won't invite anyone into your place. I had enough trouble demon-proofing my rooms."

Kobal agreed happily, thwacking his back hard enough to make him cough. Once Kobal was in, then everyone else had to have an invite.

"We should officially meet your new roommate," Penny told him, then hesitatingly added, "I heard rumors about him."

"He's harmless," Xander assured her, though from Penny's face, she must have caught his own doubts.

But she pushed on, writing a notice in the message board out in the lobby, and badgering each resident until they committed to coming or not.

At least the Odal Tal twins refused to come; Jade and Mira were still uncertain of their powers around men, and Xander had been afraid Tony would end up in a crisp by the end of the night. Veronica Par, the Kwaini who lived upstairs, also declined. She was a quiet young thing, who couldn't pass for human unless it was winter and she was swathed in clothes from head to toe.

That left Arthur and her daughter, Penny and Kobal. And Spike, the guest of dubious honor.

---

His second mistake was lying to Abby.

The party was set for Friday, at nine. At the office, Kate brought a change of clothes and twisted Xander's arm until he relented and offered her a ride. In between analyzing substances found on a victim's clothes, Abby made little maps to his place and printed copies for the others.

"No excuses, Gibbs," she said firmly, sticking the map on his computer screen before flouncing away. Her white lab coat swirled over her fishnets and four-inch high boots.

Gibbs glared at Harris as if it were his fault. He swallowed, and turned back to the missing person reports he was combing through, trying to match the face of the Jane Doe that was lying beside a dead marine in a hotel room two miles east. It had been an execution-style hit, and there was little evidence to go on, but maybe if he caught a break, Gibbs would have him cancel tonight's plans. And maybe a Hellmouth would open up beneath his desk.

Tony was on the phone with someone or other, and by his smirk, he was probably hiring a stripper or two for the party. Xander zoned a little imagining a Playboy bunny in his living room. _Anya would have loved that_, he chuckled darkly.

The work was mindless and repetitive, practically lulling him to sleep. Before he knew it, the clock pointed to eight and twelve, and he still had to prepare things. His hand caressed the cross in his desk drawer and he spared a moment praying to nameless benevolent gods that the evening won't end in disaster. Then Kate caught his eye, and Tony made shooing motions, grinning from ear to ear. "Don't worry about the refreshments, Harris. My treat," he said.

_Ah, beer._ Xander relaxed. _Unless by refreshments, he meant…_ But his phone was ringing. It was Abby, demanding that he go down to the lab before he left.

"So you have the directions, McGee?" Xander asked after he hung up.

The agent sitting to his right nodded earnestly, holding up his copy. "I'll be a little late though," he said. "Do you need me to pick up anything?"

Tony snapped his fingers. "Paper cups, McGee, and maybe napkins." Gibbs slammed a folder shut, and they all jumped a little.

McGee looked at Xander nervously, who merely shrugged. "You heard the man. You ready, Kate?"

"Just about," she answered, eyes narrowed at her computer screen, still typing away. "Give me a couple of minutes. And I have to get changed first."

"No problem. I'll wait for you at the parking lot," Xander said. "Gotta check with Abby first. I'll see you guys." He gave a little mock-salute to Gibbs, before jogging to the elevators.

---

Abby spread the CDs like they were tarot cards. "Pick three and I will tell you your fortune," she spoke in a low, hypnotic tone, making her sound even more gravelly than usual.

Xander looked, barely recognizing the names: Numeriklab, Collide, Android Lust… "This one," he said as soon as he saw the cover. "I didn't know they had an album."

"Oh, that's just live tracks from their gig at the Purple Monkey a year ago. I made it myself." Abby made gestures as if she was shaping shadow animals. "Do you know the band? I think they come from California, too."

"Yeah, I think I've watched them play," Xander answered absently, tracing a finger over the name: Dingoes Ate my Baby. "Anything else is fine, Abs," he added, knowing she probably didn't have _his_ kind of music. "But my roommate is uh, partial to The Ramones, Sex Pistols, that sort of thing."

"Ooh, maybe we could do Leonard Cohen or Morrison," Abby said, bouncing on her toes and making her pigtails swing around her face. "Do you want a copy of Dingoes? I could do a quick burn right here, or, or maybe make a mix tape of tracks and call it The Xander Party."

Xander crossed his fingers behind his back. "Sure. I trust you, Abs."

She slapped his arm.

"What?" He asked.

"I have x-ray vision, mister," she said before turning away. "Now shoo, before I spill toxic chemicals all over your lying face."

Xander knew when to cut his losses and run.

---

His third mistake was trusting Spike to behave.

It was an uncomfortable ride with Kate beside him. He didn't turn on the radio for fear she would ridicule his choice of music. So the windows were open, and aside from the other noises of the city, there was silence. Until he broke it.

"You look good, Kate. Real classy," he said, trying for a smile, and succeeding.

"Oh, you don't think I look fat in this?" Kate asked lightly, teasingly, smoothing a hand over her skirt. She was wearing a pale yellow dress, with a lavender sash around her trim waist. It looked like something Bu… _Dawn_ would wear for a dinner date. Not that she was allowed to date. He frowned, imagining her with a boyfriend and not telling anyone. Was that why she made Spike leave?

Kate looked over. "It's not an IQ test question, Harris," she barked out.

"What?" Xander said stupidly.

"Never mind," Kate said, rolling her eyes.

---

He pulled into the parking lot in the back of the building, and helped Kate carry the chips and salsa she brought. She didn't visibly react at the mangy architecture—his apartment building was akin to an unwashed stoner—but merely looked like there was something pungent in the air.

He ignored the impulse to sniff his own armpits; this was like junior high all over again. He led her downstairs to his place. She took the bags while he fished out his keys. Turning the key into the lock, he pushed the door open with a palm, saw Spike—freshly showered and half-naked—walking around in his living room, and pulled it shut with a bang.

He turned to Kate, whose eyebrows had reached her hairline. "I-I… could you just… give me a sec, alright?" He stuttered out then opened the door just wide enough to slip through before slamming it in Kate's face.

"Spike! What the hell?" Kate heard the voice even through the thick door. She stood outside, holding the bags of chips, torn between annoyance and interest.

---

Spike had had decades of practice sitting in a room surrounded by sweaty, blood-filled bodies and playing the human around them. The parties in Oxford were worse, even with all the snooty gits suffering delusions of intelligence. He had endured them all by watching Dawn.

And now he watched Harris, assessing the donut boy's conversations with these strangers. The boy laughed with a beer in hand, nudging shoulders with the other guy called Tony, who was as brash as a pup fighting for his place. The top dog was around too, and when Spike met the guy's blue eyes with his own, he knew why Harris was so concerned. This Gibbs was as sharp as they come, and held himself like a warrior, though now he was flirting with the landlady, not bad-looking herself: Penny Jordan. She had shaken _his_ hands briefly, given him a tight smile, while her eyes offered threats. She wasn't much for vampires then.

The music was all right, though all the machine beats made his teeth itch. The chick in the lacy black dress brought the CD. When he opened the door, he almost stepped back in shock. And then the moment passed; the pale girl who beamed at him with her red, red lips did not look anything like Dru after all.

Especially now. She was having a contest with the Treika'n, bottle-slinging and challenging each other to make all sorts of mixes. The kid--little Trixie with her obnoxious dimples and her whiny voice--watched them, mesmerized. He thought about breaking her tiny neck like a twig, but the chip hummed in his head, and he looked away.

"You okay?" Xander asked him, anxiety all over his face. He passed him another beer.

"Got any whiskey?" Spike asked back, although he swallowed a few mouthfuls of the cheap swill.

Xander looked over at the bartenders. "I could bring you a Southern sling or something."

He snorted. "Just no Sex on the Beach, Harris. You're not my type."

Xander stifled the urge to pour his beer on the vampire's blond head. "Whatever," he said, but headed to interrupt the festivities.

"And nothing pink or fruity," Spike called out.

---

Kate was having fun. Despite Tony's best efforts, the night had yet to descend into frat boy drunkenness. Instead, she was sitting on the couch with a little girl asleep on her lap. Her father, Arthur, was getting her some water.

"How's the little dear?" Ducky asked, gesturing at Trixie with his cup from the chair across from her. "You know I think you'd make an excellent mother, Caitlin."

"Oh, I can just see it: Kate Todd, barefoot and pregnant," Tony chimed in from a meter away, winking at her.

Kate pretended to be offended, but she ran her hand through the little girl's fine blond hair. Sometimes she did think about it…

"She's adorable, I know," Arthur said as he sat back down, handing her a cup. "She's my little lucky charm. When she was younger, I used to walk her on the streets, and these strangers would just approach her and give her candy or something."

"Oh, that one be a natural," Kobal added, holding out a platter of little chocolate cups from the kitchen. "I babysit her all the time and I be telling you, she be magical."

Tony reached for a hazelnut cream, and wondered at the uneasiness that crossed Arthur Yorn's face.

---

The apartment wasn't big enough for anyone to have private conversations, though some of them tried. In one corner, Spike sat down with arms crossed, rebuffing those who sought to talk to him. Instead he let other people's words wash over him.

"So now you're spending time with me. What happened to Mr. Bartender?"

"Oh my God, McGee. Are you jealous of Kobal?"

"I be liking my work at the bar. There be many things to listen to. How is it with dead people? Don't you get bored?"

"Oh, well, Dr. Mallard makes it interesting, and there's always something new to learn. You could say that the dead do speak but only if you're trained to listen. Still, I suppose it must be fun meeting all sorts of people in a bar."

"You be having no idea, dude."

"Your daughter is beautiful, Arthur."

"Thanks, doc."

"She reminds me of a young lady I met when I was in Bahrain. She would twirl around and around until she got dizzy. She said she wanted to raise sand storms. When I told her it was impossible, she kicked me on the shin and kept on twirling." Chuckles.

"You seem to have had an interesting life, doc."

"Ah, but one doesn't have to travel to the ends of the earth to meet interesting people."

"I know what you mean. Driving a cab is a no-brainer, but every day is different. You get to know the city better, and the people in it. It's quite an adjustment from New York."

"So you're raising this young lady alone?"

"Ah, yes." Brief moment of silence. "We moved here after my wife left two years ago. It's hard on my girl, but Penny's been a Godsend. She's amazing with children."

"Is it hard to be a landlady?"

"Only for this bunch." Laughter. "I can't imagine managing more than one building, really. But I like the little community we have here. Trixie stays with me a lot, and Kobal's as friendly as a puppy dog."

"And Harris?"

Spike tilted his head to listen to Penny's reply.

"Oh, Xander's a sweetie. He tries to help everybody, but I hear you keep him jumping. Still, he's always available to open that extra tight pickle jar."

"So when were you going to tell me about all these lovely ladies, Harris?"

Spike turned almost-yellow eyes in Tony DiNozzo's direction. He was standing in front of the wall.

"Yes, Alexander. I actually find this particular arrangement curious. You seem to have no such pictures at your desk."

Xander scratched the back of his neck. "When I'm at work, I'm not in the mood for much story-telling, Ducky." He reddened. "Except when _you're_ the one telling them, of course."

"But this is the perfect time, mate," Spike interjected, having sauntered close as casually as possible. "Why don't you tell them everything about… about _her_?"

Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't have preternatural hearing, but he felt the tension in the air. He stood up, beside a suddenly wary Penny, and ambled closer to the group, trying for casual and eyeing the weird punk named Spike, who stared at Harris like they were arguing mind to mind. There was something about that guy. He made Gibbs neck itch.

It was Penny who broke the silence, "I know you lost a mutual friend," she said softly. "And you're both still grieving. It's not exactly party material is it?"

Xander flinched at Penny's words. And Spike looked away, visibly trying to regain control. The others turned to the wall again, obviously wanting to guess which one they were talking about.

Desperate that they cease trying—there were a lot of his dead up on that wall—Xander spoke, "I started putting the pictures up whenever I felt lonely. I've never lived away from home before."

Spike snorted. "Don't tell me you miss your parents' basement, Harris."

Xander glared back at him, although without any real animosity. It was the vampire's way of apologizing, he knew.

"You lived in your parents' basement?" Tony spoke in horror, sharing an amused look with Kate, making him feel like he was eighteen years old again.

"At least there wasn't a boat in it," Xander shot back, smiling at his boss wryly.

Gibbs' eyebrows shot up. "Well I'd call this an improvement, Harris," he said. "Really grown up."

And that was when Abby opened the door to his bedroom and saw posters from Star Wars and Babylon 5 up near the ceiling.

Xander endured the teasing sheepishly, but also gratefully. At least they didn't see the weapons under his bed. Beside the Backstreet Boys lunchbox he had bought from eBay.

---

A/N: Sorry for the super late chapter. I lost momentum half-way and had to rewrite the party scene three times.


	3. Chapter 3

Team Gibbs

By Fojee

Chapter Three: The Rattled

"Did you notice anything weird at the party last week?" Tony asked Kate on their way back to the office, both of them holding paper bags of lunch.

Kate tilted her head. "What kind of weird?"

"Like that guy you were talking to, Arthur York or something."

"Yorn," Kate corrected.

"Yeah, don't tell me you didn't find it weird when he…" Tony made gestures around his face.

"When he started sneezing like, twelve times in a row and had to leave?" Kate finished for him. "Xander said he had really bad allergies, but he had medication for it. It's not that weird, Tony."

"And what about that guy Kobal? He started scratching all over his body until Harris shoved a lollipop in his mouth. Don't tell me that's normal."

Kate quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe they need to fumigate the building. Weird bugs in the air?"

"You should tell Gibbs," Tony said, snickering. "I'm sure he'll let the landlady know."

They exchanged looks of suppressed mirth, until Gibbs suddenly appeared from behind and smacked Tony's head. "Gear up. Dead sailor down by the 14th."

"Yes, boss. Right away, boss." Tony's face had smoothed into a mask of earnestness, while Kate bit her lip.

Xander grabbed a bag of burgers from his hand. "Don't worry, Tony. Whatever Kobal has, it's not contagious," he said cheerfully, a different mask on his face.

---

Spike stood with such stillness, it was awhile before Xander even noticed he was in the room. In contrast, Xander was rushing around, packing his gear, with a few extra changes of clothing. They were going out of town on a case, and he had only thirty minutes left before Gibbs would start buzzing.

"So you always come running when the old boy beckons?" Spike's sardonic tone made his hackles rise.

"He's demanding, but he's the best," Xander replied in a carefully neutral tone.

"So what happens if there's a vamp or demon? Do you turn a deaf ear, because the boss still has you by the neck?"

Xander sighed. "I told you D.C. isn't anything like the Hellmouth. The demons are like gnats compared to the humans."

A strange expression crossed Spike's face. "Don't be too sure. And besides, what if one makes an alliance with the other?"

Xander turned slowly toward the suddenly chatty vampire. "If you're bored, and trying to stir up trouble, Spike…"

The vampire waved a hand languidly. "I'm just asking which fight you'll choose when the bloody shit hits the bloody fan."

The conversation was uncomfortably familiar. Spike's words reminded Xander of Riley, and the incongruity made him want to laugh. Instead, he shrugged. "Depends on the battle, Spike. But we both know how I was. Do you really think I made that much of a difference in the old days?"

Xander felt the ghosts of self-recrimination fill his mouth with bitterness. "I chose to leave because I wanted to do something that matters. It may not be as interesting as vampire patrols or demon research, but it's more satisfying to actually put the bad guys in jail."

Spike just smirked until Xander realized how late he was. Muttering death threats under his breath, he slammed out the door as if the hounds of hell were yapping at his heels.

Once the boy was out, the smirk dropped from Spike's face. _Xander Harris, what the hell happened to you?_ He wandered towards the wall—it was beginning to be a habit—his eyes automatically falling to his favorite photo: Buffy—with Joyce and Dawn by her side—with her self-assured smile and her long hair gleaming in the sun.

And he bit his cheek to hold back the rising grief. He's had enough of being a ponce.

---

A couple of weeks later, Xander almost got his head cut off.

As soon as he walked in the door, Spike had thrown an axe at him. Only pure instinct made him grab it out of the air. But his heart hammered wildly in his ribcage, badly startled.

"What the hell are you doing?" He spluttered.

"Just testing how awake you are," Spike answered drolly. "There's some rampaging Pik'shaws near the red light district."

"Pik'shaws?" Xander barely had time to blink and absorb the unfamiliar term before Spike was hauling his ass out into the night. "Uh, what exactly are Pik'shaws? And how dangerous are they?"

"They have massive feathered arms and backs set with thorns, but what you need to worry about are the stinger-tails."

Xander scrunched his nose at the description. "What do they eat?"

Spike turned and looked at him with undisguised incredulity. "What?"

"I'm just saying they could be perfectly harmless," Xander said.

"Oh they are," Spike assured. "When they're asleep, anyway. When they're awake, they jump into some nearby portal and start grabbing soft, juicy humans to line their nests. You coming?" The vampire did not wait for an answer, but stalked out, in his usual duster and black boots, a naked sword in hand.

Resigned, Xander followed, axe slung over a shoulder. Another long night.

---

They found the Pik'shaws dragging a scantily-clad young lady down an alley. Xander wanted to laugh; the Pik'shaws were about three and a half feet tall. But when one practically flew into his face, he swallowed down the choked laughter, letting out a wheeze just as he swung the axe. The damned things were faster than their squat bodies showed.

Spike had dove in with his usual enthusiasm. It had been far too long since he had gotten a real workout; the ol' Watcher had always refused to spar with him. He ignored the claws that slashed at his face, grabbing the bugger by the neck, breaking it with a twist, while kicking another to the wall. He let Harris see to the strumpet. The lad looked like he needed to get himself laid, anyways. Unconsciously, his fangs dropped and he grinned at the creatures in delight.

"Oh my god," the woman said in shock, as she watched the blond guy's face change while he fought those beasts so brutally. She whimpered, thinking very clearly, _I don't want to die_. She flinched when the darker guy reached her, though she immediately relaxed at his soothing voice.

"Don't worry, ma'am. We're the good guys, okay? Are you injured anywhere?" The voice was professional and yet warm, like an old family doctor's, though she saw he was quite young.

She let him help her up, and lead her away. When she craned her neck for another look at those ridiculous little monsters, he blocked the view and gently turned her away.

"My friend's dealing with the problem," he assured her. "You're safe now. You know how kids are, with their pranks and their love of monster costumes."

_Pranks and costumes?_ She thought, startled. _Of course! What else could they be? But what about that blonde's face?_

"My friend thinks he's a superhero, so he wears the leather jacket and the mask," Xander continued to blather on, trying to gauge if she was buying it. And it seemed like she was. _You'd think they'd be smarter around here than in California._ He snorted inwardly. The truth was that rational people tended to believe his stories more readily. Or maybe they were just used to hearing someone spin the truth…

"She's on her way to the hospital," Xander announced as soon as he got back to the alley. Spike turned to him incredulously—he was just finishing off the last one—and spoke, "You didn't even get a bloody peck on your cheek, did you? What a waste!"

Xander ignored the jibe, taking his axe and making sure the Pik'shaws were all dead with a slash across their necks. He had to dance a bit to avoid the still squirming stingers. Then they did the usual clean-up, dragging the carcasses into body bags and transporting them towards a nearby dump with a conveniently attached furnace. It was almost two by the time they were finished.

Another long, fucking day. Xander thought as he tried to get some shut-eye. What seemed like two minutes later and his alarm was going off.

---

Xander kept yawning all morning; the coffee didn't seem to help any. Kate kept glaring at him, while Tony made digs about late nights and getting laid, but he didn't have the energy to retaliate. It was all he could do to focus on the job. Tired as he was, though, he felt Gibbs' stare like a sniper's cross-hairs on his forehead.

Good thing (or was it?) the phone rang right that moment. Another dead sailor. Oh, joy.

---

When Xander almost took a head-dive into concrete, slipping on some grease beside the trash cans he was digging through for evidence, Gibbs decided enough was enough. He pulled the kid aside, eyes narrowing at Harris' paleness. "If you can't handle the hours, Harris…" He let his voice trail away, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a ready-to-attack poltergeist.

"I know," Xander said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his free hand. "Sorry, boss."

"Make sure you don't miss a thing," Gibbs rapped out before leaving. The case won't solve itself.

---

But three weeks later, Harris still wasn't in top condition. Even Ducky had noticed, and he blamed it on Gibbs.

"All those long nights aren't conducive to sharp instincts, Jethro. You shouldn't push Alexander so hard. How about giving the boy some time off? Or perhaps I should give him a physical, just in case. Chronic fatigue could have several causes."

Gibbs fought the urge to pound his own head. "Kid's young, and his last physical was clear. If he wants time off, he can request it. If I make him take it, that's gonna look like a reprimand in his file."

"Anthony and Caitlin seem to be handling the hours without any problem," Ducky said thoughtfully, tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Well, authorize a physical anyway. And get this weekend off. You've worked far too many Saturdays lately. If things don't get better, maybe that reprimand will be necessary."

Gibbs chewed the inside of his cheek, nodding to the medical examiner without looking like he was conceding in any way. "We'll see."

---

"Here," Abby said, handing him a cup of Caff-Pow in a moment of magnanimity. "You look like you need it more than I do."

Xander reluctantly accepted, and took a sip. For a few hours at least, he felt better. Until he wasn't.

---

"Spike, are you deliberately inciting fights just to make my life miserable?" Xander wheezed out in between swipes at the giant Cenoptic demon roaring above his head.

Spike was too busy riding its back, dodging the tentacles and stabbing its chest, looking for its weak spot. After he found it with the sharp end of a dagger, and the Cenoptic collapsed, he jumped off, brushing the slime from his coat, and wiping the dagger on a scrap of newspaper fluttering against a dumpster in the alley. "What, you think I breeze into town and start rooting out demons just to entertain myself?"

Xander took a moment to catch his breath before answering. "I wouldn't put it past you, Spike."

Spike had to bite back a grin, and turn it into a smirk. "I'm flattered. So how do we get this thing to the dump?" He gestured at the demon sprawled on the ground, all seven and a half feet of it. "It's not gonna fit in your car."

Xander glared at him, though he knew it was useless. Even after eight years, he still couldn't figure the vampire out. Of course, he spent half of those eight years hating his guts. "I know someone who can help with transport," he bit out, taking out his batphone and dialing a familiar number. "But you and me, we have to talk."

Spike pasted an innocent look on his face, but his humming gave him away.

Within half an hour, a couple of no-neck Thwerks arrived in a red pick-up truck, slapped Xander on the back, greeting him a series of snorts from their over large noses, and proceeded to haul the dead Cenoptic like it was just an over-sized sack of potatoes. They put it onto the bed of the truck, backed out of the alley, and headed on their way.

Spike watched them leave in utter fascination, before turning to Xander. "How in bloody hell did you manage to befriend Thwerks and still keep your skin intact?"

Xander ignored the question in favor of one of his own. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish? Is this some return to big badness plot to get me killed?"

Spike made a gesture as if shocked, though he was clearly enjoying the exchange. He brushed down the front of his coat for a moment before meeting Xander's waiting eyes. "It's just a test, Harris, to see which side you're really on."

"Which side? What is this, some schoolyard tug-of-war?" He shook his head. "I don't have to justify myself to you, you know. I'm making things work here. Everything was fine before you came along."

"Fine? Everything was _fine?_" Spike broke in sharply. "First of all, you reek of that damn gypsy. Second, you jump through hoops and go fetch sticks for some bloody ex-soldier. And third, you overestimate me if you think I can get a Cenoptic demon to rampage and start collecting livers."

"So what is it, then? Why're the demons getting all restless and homicidal?" Xander raised his hands in exasperation, though he barely had the energy to lift them to shoulder height.

"Maybe they're testing you, too," Spike answered more calmly.

Xander shook his head—whether to clear it or in confusion over Spike's claim, he didn't know—while walking towards the car, with Spike following behind. They had already stashed the weapons in the trunk. "We'll talk when we get home," he muttered as if in a mantra, but he could barely keep his eyes open. After a brief hesitation, he threw his keys to the vampire and entered the passenger side.

Spike looked down at the keys in his hand, and tried very hard not to feel touched at the gesture. He turned the key in the ignition and looked over at Harris—wanting to get the last word in the argument—but it was useless. Above the coughing of the Impala's engine, he heard Xander snore.

Well. So much for talking.

---

"Are you injured?" McGee asked when he noticed the wince on Xander's face as he sat down. Kate and Tony immediately looked his way, like bloodhounds after a scent.

Xander was quick to deny it, but Gibbs grabbed his arm and shoved him into the elevator. He thought there was going to be another conference, and started preparing to be scolded yet again, but the older man was silent all the way down to the autopsy. He pointed at the door wordlessly, and Xander slunk in, like a defeated dog, tail perfectly tucked between his legs.

"Alexander, I've been waiting to see you, my boy," Ducky greeted him with a smile so open that he couldn't help but return it. But his face froze when he heard the next few words. "Now roll up your sleeves, young man. Or better yet, take off your clothes. It'll save us some time." Ducky unwrapped a syringe from its package and looked at him eagerly.

If he could have turned paler, Xander would have done a Marcia and turned invisible.

---

Explanations, explanations, explanations: by now he was really good at making them. And though he knew Gibbs didn't buy them, he didn't budge an inch when his boss got in his face about it, until finally (finally!) Ducky just sent him home with some aspirin.

As soon as he walked in the door, ducking in case the vampire threw another weapon at him, he greeted Spike with a sharp glare and a barked command to sit down. He obeyed, though he managed to look as insolent as possible while doing so.

"Just explain what you know, Spike. And please! No more games."

Spike took his time before speaking as if they were just continuing a conversation that had been cut short, which in this case was the truth. "I'm just saying that all this mayhem means you're being tested. You say you move here and just slipped into your routine without so much as a welcome wagon. That's just too bloody good to be true, isn't it?"

"But why now?" Xander cracked his knuckles, stopping the urge to bite his nails. "I've been living here for years."

"Well it might have something to do with your recent, unexpected guest," Spike said, gesturing at the apartment. It took awhile before it sunk in that the vampire was talking about Dracula.

Xander frowned. "I don't get it."

Spike leaned back, stretching his legs in front of him. "From what you told me, you don't know much about demon politics here in D.C., don't you?"

"About as little as I know about the human ones," Xander confessed. "Kobal tried to explain things to me, but I'm not sure how much he knows, either. Just that those who stay here usually do so to make alliances with politicians, so they're more interested in blending in."

"Yes, they don't much care for ending the world, since they're having too much fun playing in it." Spike shifted on the couch until he was well-settled to tell his story. "I can sympathize, as you well know," he added smoothly. "I did talk to your Treika'n neighbor. He said he recognized a lot of senators' aides at that bar. Some of them like to manipulate things without claiming the credit. At least, not in human terms."

"What does this have to do with Dracula?" Xander interrupted, but he stopped when Spike raised a hand.

"So there are the big-leaguers who exert as much political power as they do mystical ones. You don't have to know their names: just that they keep an eye on each other and keep the balance. Long before you came here, _they_ were the ones policing this place. I don't know why they tolerated you in the first place. Maybe it's because you joined the Navy cops, so that gives you authority in the ordinary world that they are wary of resisting."

For some strange reason, Spike's accent was changing, and the long words rolling off his tongue suddenly reminded Xander of Ducky. He bit back a laugh and tried to clarify. "So my being in NCIS gave me an immunity of sorts?"

Spike nodded. "What you have to remember about these gits, Harris: they are completely paranoid and territorial. There have been all sorts of power plays here on Capitol Hill throughout history; how many times do you think demons have been involved?"

Xander nodded. It did make sense. "And I guess I don't pose a threat because…"

"Because you have a badge," Spike finished for him. "So that means you go after the rogues, the rule-breakers. And I guess they don't mind that. It also means you're not likely to ally with anyone; you've joined a team already," Spike added the last statement with a twist to his mouth.

"So when Dracula came here?"

"Vlad the Impaler," Spike uttered with contempt. "Historically a minor king with an overblown reputation that has bled into popular culture. But whatever he was or wasn't, he was a leader. A damned good one," he added grudgingly. "He doesn't have armies anymore, but he's still the same ruthless figure."

"He would be someone other demons would rally behind," Xander said in slow realization.

"So he's a threat, and now they know _you're_ his servant," Spike continued pointedly. "You can imagine how some factions would panic. Everyone knows you're a white hat, but he's tainted you, so they want to know if you'll change sides, or if you're working for someone else's agenda."

"So it really has nothing to do with you?" Xander asked again, just to buy time to absorb it all.

"Well," Spike said, looking almost modest. "I suppose my presence here has contributed a little in uh, raising tempers. After all, these demons have been chained and muzzled for ages. If they take offense when I insult them, then that's a positive thing, innit?"

"For you, maybe. For me, it means I'm almost at my breaking point," Xander said, closing his eyes, finally letting his muscles unwind. _Besides, look who's talking about being muzzled_, he thought to himself but did not dare voice out loud.

"And what happens when you break?" Spike leaned forward with an intense expression on his face.

Xander opened one eye, before closing it again. "You want me to quit," he said flatly.

Spike smirked, though it was wasted on Harris. "I'm just saying you're not Superman. When will you drop the alter ego? The badge might protect you in some ways, but it also distracts you from the real war, Harris."

Xander surged forward suddenly, surprised at the rage boiling in his veins. "Maybe they're not fighting monsters, but for those soldiers, the war _is_ real, much more real than whatever it is we do." He shook his head and tried to calm down. "Buffy didn't have a choice, but I do, Spike. We all do. Even Dawn has one now. Think of what Buffy had always wanted. All her life, she worked hard to be a normal girl and still do her duty. What makes you think I'd do anything less?"

Spike's mouth thinned. "So you'd rather be a cog in a wheel than a hero," he said in disgust.

Xander laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. "I've never wanted to be a hero, Spike. Look," he added, running a hand through his wavy hair, "this doesn't solve anything. I still need to know how to bring back the balance, and keep Dracula away."

Spike stood up, suddenly resolute. "You just keep doing what you can. Keep white-hatting. Leave that git to me."

Xander grabbed his arm. "Please! Nothing permanent. I still owe him."

Spike scoffed, but gave a reluctant nod. "If all goes well, you'll owe _me_."

The next morning, he was gone.

Xander Harris refused to feel worried, though he called Giles to warn him in case the vampire turned up there. Spike was a survivor. He refused to believe otherwise.

---

A/N: First of all, a huge apology for stopping so long. I lost my momentum, and it was hard to get it back. Hopefully, this is the beginning of my "second wind." I _really_ want to get this done, especially because I'm still in love with the fandoms, and the world of the story I've created. Thanks as always for your support. The demon names are made up.


	4. Chapter 4

Team Gibbs

By Fojee

Chapter Four: Normal for Now

It was both easier and harder without Spike around.

Xander didn't realize how good it felt to have back-up you could count on especially in an all-out battle, though he never would have thought the vampire would fill that role. And the apartment felt a little empty without the familiar smell of smoke and blood, without the noises of someone else moving around. Spike had always been restless.

Fighting back to back with Spike was different from working with his team at NCIS. Xander generally knew their capabilities and their reactions, but though they have had a few really tough cases, and a few narrow escapes, he hadn't walked through the mouth of hell with them. And he didn't know how they'd react to seeing a real monster.

On the other hand, with Spike gone, there was nobody dragging him to God knows where as soon as he walked in the door. Maybe the demons were killing out there, but when he's had a couple of overnighters on a long or nasty case, he knew he was better off collapsing into bed than going out on the streets. He still tried to patrol regularly, and aside from a few extra bruises, he managed to escape with his hide intact.

Kobal knocked on his door one Saturday afternoon, just before dark. "Hey, is it true? Did Spike go on far away?"

Xander shrugged casually. "Yeah. He's gone."

To his surprise, Kobal looked genuinely sorry. "He be cool for a vampire," the Treik'an said, his accent rounding out the last syllable. He shook his head, making his dreadlocks swing around. They were bells caught in it, and they sounded like teeny chimes. "He can keep his fangs to hisself."

"Well you know how it is with people you grew up with," Xander murmured. "They show up out of the blue and then they leave without a word."

Kobal gave him a strange look at that. "You must have grown up with weird people, Xander." He clapped Xander's shoulder hard, making him wince. "You go on to the bar tonight you hear! I be treating you to a drink. Ah!" He held up a hand when Xander looked like he might protest. "I be accepting no excuses."

Xander nodded in defeat. He got ready mechanically, barely glancing at the dark blue button down he slipped on. He wasn't ready to admit how glad he was to have somewhere to go to, somewhere he wasn't quite alone. Before he could leave, however, Penny accosted him near the lobby.

"Is he coming back?" She asked. "Because he may not have done any damage to this place, but I hear things."

"I don't know, okay?" Xander said. "And yes, he _is_ trouble. But he's also a good friend." He barely even flinched at the word. "He's off somewhere, probably out of the country, but I can't promise you he won't drop by again to visit."

"Well next time give a girl some warning. I try to keep this place vermin-free," his landlord said with a wrinkled nose. "Oh, and rent's due next week."

He kept his mouth shut and nodded. There was no way he'd volunteer information to Penny about Dracula, not if the wards on the apartment hadn't already alerted her in the first place. He didn't want to be thrown out into the streets because of his checkered and plaid past.

After that, he wasn't sure visiting Petrovich's was a good idea, but it was a neutral enough place, so he showed up for a few minutes and let Kobal buy him something minty and fruity that slid down his throat easily. The bar was dark and cool, the music low and distinctly non-human, sort of sibilant and hypnotic. It wasn't as crowded as usual; maybe business was getting affected by all this unrest, too.

He let the music calm him down and spent the rest of the night nursing a beer, not giving in to the temptation to look around. He could feel the stares like a bad itch. Maybe he was developing his own spidey sense. Nobody approached him, for which he was grateful.

It was like they were saying the ball was in his court. Tennis was for pretentious stuck-ups anyway. Give him some smelly shoes and a bowling ball any day.

---

Tony leaned back against the car seat, taking a last look at Midshipman Ian Patterson cuffed in the back before sneaking a glance at Xander Harris on the passenger seat, looking out the window.

They all knew something was up with Harris the past few months, what with the making of stupid mistakes and the chronic fatigue. Gibbs had wound up tighter and tighter until he was about ready to go off, but then it stopped soon after it started. Now Xander was back to his eager, bush-tailed beaver self. And his boss didn't look like smoke was gonna come out of his ears any second.

Apparently the weird roommate was out of the picture; just took off. Good. He had creeped Tony out at the party, but he was too proud to say so. Now everything was fine. Except that every once in a while, a strange expression would cross the kid's face—like it was doing now—and Tony would get the sudden urge to delve into Harris' head.

---

_Meet Special Agent Harris, worrywart_. Xander thought wryly to himself even as he stared at the storefronts they passed on the way back to the Naval Yard. It had been almost a month since Spike had disappeared, and he was slowly going nuts. It was like Anya all over again. Or worse, because if anything happened to Spike, it would be his fault.

_Why should I care, anyway?_ He tried to lecture himself, though he was careful not to start talking aloud. He didn't need Tony to report him and Gibbs to run him through another psych eval or something. He tried to dredge up the old feelings of hate and resentment. But really, after Buffy died, he couldn't quite remember how much he loathed the vampire, especially not after everything Spike had done to make sure Dawn pulled through.

Suddenly filled with a surge of panic mixed with guilt, Xander bit his lip hard enough that there was blood on the back of his hand when he wiped it. The metallic taste helped him finalize a decision. As soon as he got a moment to himself—Tony had hauled Patterson by the arm towards interrogation, and the others were still following other leads to track down other suspects in the marine's death they were investigating—he patched a call in to a number in his batphone.

"Hey deadboy, it's me. How's the kid doing? You're not being too happy, are you, coz I'm always willing to spread the hate," he said as soon as he heard the other vampire answer. It was lame, he knew, but he couldn't resist it.

"Xander," Angel sighed on the other line, his tone both long-suffering and patronizing. "What do you want?"

"Just wanted to give you a heads up," Xander tried to keep his voice upbeat and nonchalant. "Spike's gone after Dracula."

"Again?" Angel asked. Confusion was evident in his tone. "Drusilla's not involved, is she?"

Xander frowned. "What?"

"Every time Spike goes after Dracula, it's to save Drusilla," Angel explained.

"So they've really met before?" Xander asked. "Because I wasn't sure if he was just blowing hot air about those eleven pounds Dracula supposedly owes him."

"Dracula came after us," Angel said, then hesitated before continuing. "In revenge for the gypsy tribe we massacred."

"The same tribe who taught him his party tricks? The same tribe who gave you a soul? _That _gypsy tribe?" Xander's eyes were wide.

Angel's silence was answer enough.

"Look, so they have some history. I get that," Xander babbled. "But that's not why he's after Dracula now. At least I don't think so. I'm sort of bound to him, and Spike said something about taking care of it."

"You're what?"

It was Xander's turn to explain about Sunnydale and about what happened in D.C., though he was reluctant to tell the other vampire anything. He could almost hear Angel grit his teeth.

"Spike will challenge him for you," Angel finally said, sighing. "And knowing him, he won't stop until Dracula gives in. He can be," he paused, "relentless."

"I know." Xander rolled his eyes. As if he wasn't there the first time Angel told them all about his childe. "Well what are the odds he'll win?" He was hunched over the phone just as his boss walked over and slapped him upside the head.

"Uh, sorry boss," the younger man said sheepishly. "I'll call you back, deadboy," he whispered on the phone before snapping it shut.

The whole gang was behind him, Kate looking amused and McGee with a sympathetic grin.

Tony had his arms crossed. "I got Patterson to crack," he said smugly. "He flipped on his best friend, a Midshipman Ricardo Gomez. It was a drug deal gone bad, yadda, yadda, yadda, and he's blaming Gomez' little junkie girlfriend, a one Latoya Baker," he read from his notes. "Of course, he blames the interfering dead marine caught in the crossfire most of all. The guy's just slimy. I feel like taking a shower."

"You smell like you need one, Tony," Kate teased.

"Pull up Gomez' record," Gibbs barked out. "I hope you were as productive, Harris," Gibbs said, eyeing the kid again. "And not just talking to some bookie. You into gambling?"

Xander shook his head so empathically he started to get dizzy again. "No, boss. Sorry. Uh, personal matter. Never happen again. Uh, pulling up the record now." He typed a few things, and Ricardo Gomez appeared up on the big screen.

McGee sat down quickly at his desk. "I'll look up his phone records," he said.

"Get me an address first," Gibbs said, holding out his hand until Xander wrote something down on a post-it and handed it to him. "DiNozzo, Harris, you're with me. You two track down the girlfriend."

Kate crossed her arms as she watched them two walk off. "He can be just a tad sexist, can't he?" She said, frowning at her boss. "Leaving the girl to me."

"Well she might be dangerous too, you know. She's a junkie after all," McGee said, hoping to cheer her up.

Kate smiled at him, showing her dimples. "Don't worry, McGee. If she gets violent, I'll protect you."

McGee imagined Kate fighting with another girl and squashed his inner Tony before he could add mud, a cage and some righteous leather to the mix. "Uh, thanks. I think."

---

Another month passed without a word from Spike. Angel had promised to look into it, but even with his sidekicks working with Faith, the vampire didn't really have resources to spare.

"Besides, Spike's a survivor, and so is Dracula. Whatever happens, I don't think it'll end in any deaths."

"Well those two, maybe," Xander muttered before hanging up. It was just pathetic that Angel was trying to reassure him. Finally, he decided to just shove it all at the back of his mind. The demons in D.C. were still more agitated than usual, but although some bizarre deaths made their way to the papers, he noticed they weren't _too _bizarre. Someone was still pulling the strings, perhaps.

So he just made sure to visit the hot stops at least every couple of weeks, and he put out word with the few demons still speaking to him that he wasn't at anyone's bidding, even if that wasn't strictly true.

Until it was.

One moment he was washing his hands in the bathroom, and the next, darkness had engulfed him. He woke up and the familiar antiseptic smells of the hospital washed over him. Meanwhile _McGee_ was holding his hand.

"Xander, you okay?" McGee was asking, though thankfully, he had withdrawn his hand as soon as Xander was awake. He just blinked up at the other agent. "I called Gibbs already. And he let Director Morrow know. The doctor said your blood pressure just dropped, but they couldn't find a reason for it. And you wouldn't wake up."

"How long?" Xander rasped out after another long pause. _What happened?_

"Just half a day," McGee said. "Visiting hours is almost over. Kate and Ducky just left. Tony had a date."

"Why'd you stay?" Xander eyed the black flowers on the table.

"Abby's out getting us a cup of coffee," McGee admitted, standing up. "I should get her." But he was just standing there. "Um, they may have ."

As soon as McGee's words sunk in, he tried to sit up so fast he ended up seeing spots."You what?" Xander asked in growing horror.

"She was listed as your emergency contact," McGee explained.

Xander leaned back again, his limbs heavy. "Oh frak."

---

Willow was sitting on the chair beside the bed the next time he woke up. It had been a hell of a time getting to sleep. He wanted to call them and tell them everything was fine, that it was pointless having them go to D.C. but he couldn't seem to pick up the phone. Besides, there was just no stopping a worried Willow.

"Xander!" The witch exclaimed, leaning over him and checking his temperature with her hand. "How are you feeling?" She looked exactly the same, except for her hair which was shorter and somehow in a darker shade of red.

"I'm fine, Wills," he tried to reassure her. "Just overworked, I guess. Where's Tara?"

"She's checking us in a hotel somewhere. She'll come over in awhile." Willow crossed her arms. "And don't go giving me that lame excuse, mister! I already talked to your doctor and your boss. And I know whatever this is, it's something more than 'too many all-nighters'! Why didn't you call me?"

Why didn't he? Xander didn't know the answer to that. After all, if they were back in Sunnydale, Willow would be the first person he'd call if he found himself magically tied to an ancient vampire. _Have I really changed that much? _

"Sorry," he said, pouting up at her. "Wait! You talked to Gibbs?"

Willow laughed at the look of horror on her best friend's face. "Don't worry, sweetie. I was very professional. No mention of stolen Barbies or your other youthful misdemeanors." Then she looked at him with her Resolve Face. "Now you will tell me everything. Or else."

"Or else what?" He asked, because he couldn't resist.

Willow smiled ever so sweetly. "I'm sure your co-workers will be delighted to learn all about your road trip after senior year. Oxnard, anyone?"

Xander's mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't!"

---

After he had spilled his guts—Gibbs had nothing on Willow's interrogation techniques—Xander endured his best friend's teary-eyed disapproval.

"We really have grown apart, haven't we?" She said softly, which hurt worse than any accusation would have.

"I'm sorry, Wills," he said helplessly. "I just didn't want to worry you."

"Well I'm here now, and I'll make this better," she vowed, patting his cheek and making him feel all of three years old.

It took less than a day.

Within an hour, Tara was standing at his bedside, with an armful of strange-smelling 'groceries' in a brown paper bag.

Xander smiled up at the blonde witch. "Hey, Tara," he said.

"Are you feeling better?" Tara asked, her voice still soft but seemed less timid for some reason.

Xander shrugged. He wasn't dizzy or anything, but there was something _wrong_ with him. It was like he was on a roller coaster, and his stomach had dropped to the ground in the sudden acceleration. His insides were roiling.

"What exactly is that for?" He asked. "And make sure the doctors don't catch you; they're a lot quicker on the uptake here in D.C."

"There's already a notice-me-not spell on your room," Willow soothed him. "We're just doing a diagnosis spell. It's sort of a mix of a scrying spell and an aura seeing one. Completely harmless, I promise."

Xander nodded automatically, though Tara must've sensed his lingering doubts and squeezed his right hand.

"You won't feel a thing."

For some reason, Tara was easier to believe.

"Okay. Beam me up, Scotty," Xander said, leaning back and closing his eyes. He felt the two girls stand on either side of him, and though he didn't see them light the beeswax candle, the sulfur of the matches and some herb's sharp, _burnt_ smell reached his nose. Then he heard them start a soft chanting, which made his muscles relax. It was like he was sinking into his bed.

He lazily opened his eyes, and wasn't even alarmed at the tangle of lines in blues and greens emerging from his skin, in all sorts of directions. There was a thin black line from his heart and it led somewhere West. And he knew instinctively that he was still connected to the hellmouth.

But what seemed to trouble Willow and Tara was the single red rope that emerged from his sternum. It was floating free, almost waving to some unknown breeze. But the end of the rope wasn't a clean break. It looked like a gaping wound, or some evil worm's open mouth, expectant and hungry.

Tara had faltered in her chanting, and Willow looked pale but resolute. Xander blinked as his best friend's eyes turned dark, almost black, as she raised her hand and uttered a string of Latin. "Effrego redimio tersus."

The words were familiar, but he couldn't concentrate enough to translate them. Xander felt a hot spot on his abdomen and then lurched as something was yanked out, and he watched in absent-minded fascination as the red line shrank to nothing.

Then he opened his eyes again, not even realizing that he had closed them. "Is it gone now? Whatever it was that made me sick?"

Tara had moved to Willow's side, and gently led her to a chair. The candles were mere stubs and there was no sign of the herbs, though the smell lingered in the room. As if hearing his train of thought, Tara opened a window to let some air circulate, before she turned to him.

"The bond you had with Dracula was broken, but not completely. It was," she hesitated, trying to think of a better word, "searching for someone else to take its place, for someone else to be your master. But Willow managed to get rid of it."

"Good," Xander said. "Because the way my luck's going, Spike could have transferred the bond to himself, and that is just wrong." He was feeling better already, and he sat up, setting his feet flat on the floor. "Now how about you break me outta here and we can go do touristy things."

Willow smiled wanly at him. "I brought my camera."

---

A/N: The case was made up. The reference to Spike's history with Dracula is from the comics, which I never read except the summary at wikipedia. The Latin was an online translation of 'break the binding cleanly.'

I wouldn't say the end is nigh, but the turning point is right around the corner, next chapter to be exact. Thank you for all your reviews and your patience in waiting for the updates. Just a warning, though: I'm not sure if this will get past the beginning of season three. (In fact, I'm not sure how it'll end.)

This chapter has been brought to you by my beta reader's badgering. Merry Christmas to everyone!


	5. Chapter 5

Team Gibbs

By Fojee

Chapter Five: The Clash of the Titans

_And if we survive the cold and the night_

_In the dead of winter_

_We'll watch the sunrise on the ice together_

- "A Cold Night Close to the End" by Said the Whale

Xander opened his eyes and blinked up at the red ceiling of his apartment. His alarm was silent, and a glance confirmed that it was ten minutes before he had to get up. He stretched leisurely, sighing in contentment.

Somehow, he had fallen back into the routine of work and weekly patrols. Work was occasionally tough but somehow easier as well. And nowadays, when he walked into a demon bar, he no longer felt like he was a spark heading towards a drum of oil.

Willow and Tara, after filling up several memory cards' worth of blurry pictures, had left his whole building thick with protection spells—putting him back in Penny's good books—but they also left some awful crap in his fridge, among them tofu-soy burgers and carob cookies and some noxious herbal concoctions. At least there wasn't enough time to throw another party before they had to go back to Cleveland. It was bad enough that the two witches had met Gibbs while Xander was asleep. He really didn't need them in the same room with Tony.

And yet.

Spike was finally back on the radar. According to Giles, the vampire had shown up at their door with a rusty sword, had put Dawn through her paces with his own brand of training, instructing her to practice more since it was the winter hols, and then had left the following night.

Next time he appeared, it was in Sunnydale, and apparently he's staying, probably dedicating his unlife to making Angel's life miserable. That was fine with Xander; he even approved of the last one. But nobody seemed to be able to get the whole story of Spike's fight with Dracula out of him.

The whole idea made Xander feel like such a girl. Although he was bond-free, it still made him uneasy. He didn't want the Master coming back for another visit. Still, Spike was doing some good for a change, and probably flirting with Faith or Cordelia just to mess with everyone's brains.

And yet why did he feel like all this was just the silence before the music swells into eardrum-shattering proportions?

---

Then he received the letter.

His name was written in black ink against thick cream parchment and there was an honest-to-god wax seal in front of the envelope. He recognized the coat of arms pressed onto the seal. It was from Dracula. He wasn't eager to discover the contents, but he opened it anyway, just to get it over with.

_Dear Alexander,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I regret that our association was stopped so abruptly, and would like to assure you that I do not at all blame you._

Xander snorted at that, though he was a little worried what it meant for Spike.

_Things between us, however, cannot end so simply. Though we are no longer bound, I extend to you the hand of friendship and earnestly hope that you will accept it without feeling that you must. I've lived a very long life, and people come and go so very quickly. So I've learned that we must take what we can from this moment. _

_I understand that coming there had been a mistake on my part. I apologize for any troubles I may have caused. It is easy sometimes to forget that my name matters so much to people. So many of the young ones no longer have any respect for me, after all._

_You may write to me if you will._

It was signed in a squiggle that looked like a V and a T. Xander folded the letter and slumped down on his sofa. Him? Be Dracula's friend? That was like being befriended by a lion. _Or a wolf_, he thought sardonically. Still, as long as he knew to stay away, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He bit his thumb contemplatively, and picked up the phone. But he couldn't decide whether to call Angel or Giles, so he called Willow instead.

---

"Honestly, Harris. You've never had a wee crush on our bonnie Kate?" Tony asked in a fake Scottish accent. The three were sitting around a table at a pub, having a pint or two together to celebrate the success of the Lambert case. McGee was out on a date with Abby at some goth club.

Xander laughed long and hard, subsiding only when Kate gave her _that_ look. "No offense, Kate, but you're a little too nice for my tastes," he said mildly. "Even when you're bitchy, you're still nice."

"Really? So you go for bad girls?" Kate sassed back.

"And vice versa," Xander added with a wink.

"Dangerous claims, my friend," Tony said, rubbing his hands and smiling predatorily. "So you'll have a better chance of getting the number of say, that hot babe over there?" He pointed.

Xander followed Tony's finger to a dark-haired girl who just entered the pub. Her face was shadowed but she was wearing a skimpy red top and black leather pants.

She looked around the pub, caught his eye and headed towards the bar, her strides long and graceful.

"Maybe some other time, Tony," Xander said nervously. "I forgot; I have something to do so I'm going to have to bail." He stood up to leave.

Tony caught his arm. "Oh no you don't. You have to accept my challenge, Harris, or I will hold it against you for the rest of your working life."

"He means it, too," Kate added with a smirk.

"Well I don't need her number…"

"And why's that? Not your type either?" Kate challenged him. "You're not gay, are you, Xander?"

"A world of no," Xander denied vehemently. "It's just…" His voice trailed off, as he sneaked another peek at the lady in question.

"Well if you're scared, just say so. I can get her number for you," Tony made a move as if to get up.

Xander held him back. "No, Tony. I'll go." He stood up, took a deep breath, and walked towards the bar, snagging the chair beside her.

"So what are you doing here?" He muttered under his breath. "Everybody okay?"

"Five by five, Harris," Faith answered him. "For now."

---

"Well Xander's chatting her up and she's responding," Kate reported. "She seems interested doesn't she?"

"I don't know. Can't see her expression," Tony murmured. He couldn't believe it, though. Someone that hot, falling for a goofy kid like Xander? What alternate universe was this? He frowned. There was something familiar about that girl, though. It was in the tilt of her head, though he couldn't see enough of her features to be really sure.

---

"I'm after a Spidrall. Been trailing it from Sunnydale. Thing moves fast underground. Got word that its nest is nearby. You don't mind if I hunt in your territory, do you?"

Xander shook his head. "Appreciate the heads up, Faith. Or you could have just called."

"Well, Cordy would have kicked my ass if I didn't see you," she said. "Well not my ass, of course. But she would have said some choice things to make my ears burn." She leered at him as if to disprove her words.

"How _is_ she, anyway? And Connor, and the others?" Xander asked.

Faith became all serious. "I don't know. She's having some problems with the visions. Fucking Powers That Be."

Xander took a sip of his rum and coke. "Did Cordy talk to Willow? Maybe she can help. She did that thing while Tara was crazy. Made her all better in a jiff."

Faith shrugged. "We'll see. Connor's fine. Except he's so spoiled now, I have no doubt he'll be a terror when he hits puberty. Wes wants to say hi. Oh, and Fred and Gunn are getting married sometime next year, so expect their invite in the mail."

"Wow. Congratulations," Xander said, suddenly remembering Anya with a pang. "So you need a place to stay? I have a spare bedroom."

"Nah. Got a motel room downtown."

"If you need help with the slaying, you've got my number, right?" Xander looked at Faith head-on, to show how serious he was. "Don't hesitate to call."

"Yeah, I got it." She smiled at him easily, finishing her drink and standing up.

Xander stood up, too. "Um, I don't know if I should introduce you to my uh, teammates," he said uncertainly, gesturing at their table.

"Nah. Don't want to get too close to the feds. Except you, of course," she said. It was the only warning he got before she was in his arms, her lips slamming onto his.

Tony and Kate stared at the scene with open mouths.

After several seconds of intense liplocking, Faith stepped back. Xander gasped for air, while Faith looked at his teammates. "Like the show?" She said, even as she took out a card and slipped it in Xander's shirt pocket. "Call me, loverboy." And she sauntered out.

---

"I don't believe it," Tony announced as soon as he got back to their table. "What's your secret, Harris?"

"Relax, Tony. I had an unfair advantage, so to speak," Xander said, using a napkin to wipe his lips.

"What unfair advantage?"

"We uh, know each other."

"Well why did you look so scared when you saw her?" Kate asked.

"Did you know her in the Biblical sense?" Tony teased before being rendered speechless when Xander blushed.

"She was my uh, first you know," Xander said, wanting nothing more than to hide.

"Really? So what happened?" Kate leaned forward in interest. "Did she break your heart?"

"No, she threw me out of the room in my skivvies, Kate," Xander answered with a shrug. "Next thing I know she was homicidal."

"Homicidal?" Both teammates echoed.

"She did some jail time, but got a pardon after a couple of years. She's good now. Mostly."

Tony looked clueless for a moment before patting Xander's face. "You live a dangerous life, my man."

"That I do, Tony. That I do," Xander smiled at them grimly.

"Wait!" A bulb lit up in Tony's eyes. "I know where I saw her before. She's one of those hot chicks on your wall! So all those babes are your exes?"

Xander thought of Cordy and Anya, and then of Buffy. "I'm not that lucky," he said softly.

---

Gibbs was in the middle of handing out orders when the batphone rang.

"Shit!" Xander grabbed it, holding one hand in Gibbs' face, while he answered. "Harris."

"Ooh, that soldier boy accent gets me all hot and bothered," Faith spoke in a deep voice.

"Faith," Xander breathed out, walking away from his desk towards the window. "What's the matter? You okay?"

"Well you were right; I do need back-up. Seems I was only tailing the daddy. Mommy's here and she has eggs. Wanna come with?"

"Eggs?" Xander asked weakly, remembering the demon eggs that took over everyone at school years ago. "Can we hard-boil them?"

"212th Liberty, Harris. And bring your biggest weapon with you."

"I could requisition a rocket launcher or a flame-thrower if you think it will help?"

"Might hurt the hostages, Harris. Just bring a goddamn axe," Faith ordered, suddenly tired.

"Hostages?" Xander caught Gibbs' glare and lowered his voice. "How many?"

"I don't know, alright. Fifteen minutes, Harris, or I'm going in."

"Wait—" Xander heard the dial tone, and gritted his teeth. "Gee, thanks for oversharing, Faith."

"Ready to get back to work, Harris?" Gibbs looked like he was itching to give him a headslap.

"Sorry, Boss. But I gotta bail," Xander said, taking out his keys and opening his bottom desk drawer.

Gibbs grabbed his arm, furiously. "You walk out that door, and you're out, Harris. I don't care how high your connections are."

"Well," Xander laughed nervously. "Nice working with you, Boss."

"You're not serious, are you, Xander? We're this close to cracking this thing," Tony said, looking worriedly from Gibbs' to Xander's face.

"Sorry, Tony. Family emergency."

"You said Faith. Did something happen—" Kate indicated the phone.

"Might. Look, I really gotta go," he said, grabbing something from the drawer.

All the agents at the bullpen stopped what they were doing to gape as Xander Harris passed by towards the elevator, bearing a battle axe.

---

Gibbs was the first to move. "Gear up. We'll tail Harris. McGee, bring your laptop, get his phone records, trace the call he got."

"He got it on his second phone," Tony added, as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I don't have the number."

"You mean his third. It's not the same as the one he used before," McGee said. "I don't know it either," he added belatedly after Gibbs looked at him expectantly. "Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs cursed softly, and walked faster to the parking. They could still catch Harris.

They caught the tail end of Xander's truck. Gibbs pressed down on the accelerator, making McGee grab at the door instinctively.

They followed Xander all the way to Liberty Street. Gibbs parked several cars behind the young agent's truck.

When Xander got out, Faith was waiting for him, carrying a black duffel bag.

"You bring the cavalry, Harris?" She asked, nodding at the people in the car.

Xander turned around and groaned. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're your back-up," Kate answered.

Xander felt like tearing his hair out. "You don't get it. She's the big gun." He pointed at Faith. "And I'm the back-up. You guys are the bystanders."

"Think again, Harris." Gibbs' face was hard. He clearly would not take no for an answer.

"Don't make me call the SecNav on your ass, Gibbs," Xander said softly. "Please, just let me handle this. Look," he said, taking out his alternate cellphone. He looked at Faith. "How long do you think we'll take?"

"Twenty minutes?" Faith answered.

"Try forty," Xander answered. He handed his phone to Tony. "If we're not out in forty minutes, call Willow. Tell her..." He looked at Faith. "Tell her two big bads, with really hungry babies, living in the sewer. And there are hostages."

Faith handed the duffel bag to Gibbs, who grunted at the unexpected weight. She unzipped it and took out an axe. Gibbs glimpsed a sword and what seemed to be a crossbow, before she zipped it close. "Keep an eye on this for me, sugar. I'll be back for it."

With that she sauntered in the middle of the road, and opened the manhole cover. And jumped. Xander jogged after her, axe over his shoulder. He sat down and peered into the hole. "How deep?"

"Just jump, Harris. I'll catch you," Faith shouted back. Xander jumped.

"What do we do, Boss?" McGee asked nervously.

"Coordinate with traffic. Cordon off the area around the manhole. Tony, give them twenty minutes, then call for an ambulance. Kate, could you do a sketch of this Faith, get it to Abby."

"Uh, Boss. Xander told me she was in prison," Tony volunteered. "In Los Angeles, I think. Apparently, she uh, used to be homicidal."

Gibbs stared down at the bag of weapons in his hand. "Kate, check these for blood."

---

"No blood, Gibbs. Nothing human anyway," Kate gave him an update. "Just some dust and unidentifiable substances trapped near the handle of the sword."

"Get samples. We'll have Abby identify them later. Tony, what's the time?"

"Thirty minutes, Gibbs. The ambulance is on its way."

Gibbs walked forward and stared down at the open manhole. Tony walked behind him. They listened to the distant screeches emanating from the hole. And then it ceased.

Xander's cellphone rang. Tony fumbled at it, almost dropping it down the hole. He flipped it open and answered it. "Yes?"

"You call the ambulances?" It was Xander.

"They're here, Xander. You alright?"

"Just peachy. Do me a favor: get a ladder down this damn hole. And we got the hostages, six of 'em. They're a little shell-shocked."

"On it."

After they got the ladder down, Xander climbed up on it, bearing a tiny girl in his arms. He held her out for Tony, who took her automatically, then looked around frantically for the paramedics.

Xander took up each child one by one. Gibbs chewed on the inside of his cheek, watching the tableau. Xander was covered in something white, strips of it sticking to his clothes and his hair. Each child looked half-asleep when he brought them up. They looked to be around four to six years old. After they were all handed to the paramedics, Xander climbed out of the hole, and held out a hand for Faith.

Faith LeHane. According to her records, she went to prison for manslaughter, was given a presidential pardon four years ago. She was dangerous; she practically vibrated with the aura of death.

"How's Faith connected to Harris?" He asked himself, but Tony caught it.

"They uh, met in high school, Boss. She was his uh, I mean he lost his you know, to her," Tony said, uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

"They were lovers, you mean?"

"Just that one time," Faith told him. "Now Xander won't let me come play, coz I've been a bad girl."

"Don't go there, Faith," Xander said. He looked bone-tired.

"You should get yourself checked out, man," Tony said, but Xander shook his head.

"Just a mild concussion, and some bruises." He gave his axe to Faith.

"Could you get this to the car, please? There's a plastic bag in the trunk."

He threw Faith his keys; she caught it lightning fast.

"You didn't call Willow, did you?" He asked Tony, obviously worried.

"No, I figured if she's your emergency contact—"

"I wouldn't want to worry her for nothing. Thanks, man."

"Now could you explain this?" Gibbs asked. His patience was just about reaching its limit.

"Faith might be able to tell you more," Xander said, not meeting his eyes. "This is one instance, Gibbs, where the lie is preferable to the truth."

"And you know better than to think that I'd buy that." Gibbs moved forward threateningly.

"Hey back off," Faith said, grabbing Gibbs' arm and pushing him away from Xander. "Don't you come near him."

"Faith, it's okay," Xander sighed. "He's my boss; he owns my ass."

Faith looked at him for a second before bursting out laughing. "Oh, I am so telling Angel on you."

Xander covered his face with his hands. "Please don't," he moaned. "Look, Faith, just tell Gibbs what you know and then we can get home and get out of these clothes."

Faith looked him up and down. "Alright." She turned to Gibbs, all traces of humor disappearing from her face. "A kid went missing in Sunny D. I talked to some people, and they pointed me in a direction. So I tracked the kidnapper cross country. Other kids went missing along the way. I lost it, _him_ somewhere in Iowa. But I got word that his uh, wife was here in Washington. I gave Xander here the heads-up. He offered to back me up. When I found the location, gave him a call. We got 'em, got the hostages back. You can contact their parents to confirm if you want."

"And the kidnappers? You said they had babies." Gibbs demanded.

"The kidnappers will never do it again," Xander answered. "And the babies are not hungry anymore. Look, Gibbs, I know it's not procedure…"

"Damn right it's not! Tell me, Harris: If I got down there right now, what'll I find?"

"Monsters in the dark," Xander answered softly. "Sorry, Gibbs." He opened his phone and pressed five. "Director Morrow? Code Lilac. Clean-up on 212th Liberty. Down the sewers. We recovered all hostages, and eliminated the cell. Could you please tell Gibbs to let it go? Thanks."

He handed the cellphone to Gibbs, and walked away.

A/N: I have had this part written out ages ago, before I even finished part one. Now I don't know what happens next, but it probably won't be pretty. Any suggestions? Gibbs will find out but not necessarily the rest of the team. I do have some vague end-goal in mind. I've set this mid-January after the episode "Doppelganger."


	6. Chapter 6

Team Gibbs

By Fojee

Chapter Six: Aftershocks

Director Tom Morrow stared down at his phone in consternation. He should have expected this. He should have prepared himself mentally.

A year ago, he had received a call from the Secretary of the Navy, along with a highly classified document that, even at his level, had been covered in blacked-out lines. One name in particular remained unconcealed: Alexander Lavelle Harris. And there was a résumé and transcript attached.

The SecNav had strongly suggested that he accept young Harris into his best team. He had read between the dark spaces in that report, and had made his own discreet investigations. He still didn't have the whole picture of what went down in that military base in Small Town, California, but he had seen enough of it to stop from asking for more.

Now if only Leroy Jethro Gibbs could be as accommodating.

They were called the Cleaners.

As soon as the children had been carted off to the hospital and those Feds called back by their boss, they dispersed quietly onto the street from a single unmarked van like Men in Black. The few of them who were actually in black set up a road block and coordinated with local agencies to divert traffic, clearing the street completely.

Someone was already present at the hospital to interview the children very carefully, with the appropriate spells at hand.

The others were dressed in blueand white worker uniforms complete with masks, and they carried with them their specialized packs down the sewer. They all knew what's what, but that didn't stop most of them from gaping at the scene underground.

"Holy Shit!" Someone let out a muffled curse from behind their mask.

They approached slowly, each of them holding an axe in case the creatures weren't completely dead. The giant spiders had white bodies and all-too-human faces and torsos, one male and the other female. The male legs had been hacked into pieces, and the neck obviously broken, while the female was lying on her back, her guts strewn on the ground, her mouth open in rage, showing off her sharp teeth. And behind her…

One Cleaner started to retch, and a few others followed.

"Noobs," the guy in the lead muttered to himself, although he grimaced at the charred bodies of a dozen or so spiders the size of puppies, with heads and torsos of adorable little babies. The only sign that they were dangerous were the tiny fangs in their otherwise toothless mouths. "Get some shovels down here!" He bellowed at the other Cleaners even as he set down his pack and got out the lightweight, extra-large body bags. "No way in hell I'mtouching these with my hands."

The door slammed open, and Gibbs entered. In one hand, he clutched something.

"Jethro," Director Morrow acknowledged with a nod. His secretary peeked in nervously and he waved her away. "Your team?" He asked delicately.

"Confined to the squad room as ordered," Gibbs bit out. "DiNozzo's briefing Worth on the Matlock case. Other than that, they're just drumming their fingers and keeping their mouths shut." It was the longest speech Morrow had ever heard from the agent and each word felt like an injured bull's bellow of challenge.

"Special Agent Harris is heading in right now," he informed the other man. "Perhaps we should wait before we start?"

Gibbs answered by dropping the box he was holding onto Morrow's desk. It held q-tips and clear film with the fingerprints Kate had extracted from the weapons in Faith LeHane's bag.

"Someone will be taking those," Morrow said mildly.

"The hell they are!" Gibbs's voice was hoarse as he tried his best not to shout at his boss. "Not before I get my answers."

"It's classified, Jethro." Morrow rubbed his forehead.

"Then read me in," Gibbs said slowly and softly, which was a sign of how near he was to running out of patience.

"It's not that simple. This is bigger than you and me," Morrow was saying just as Harris opened the door.

Xander had changed his clothes, and his hair was damp. His eyes met theirs for a second, before they flitted away to the shadows in the room. He stood by the door uncertainly, and he held himself like he was two seconds away from scarpering. He looked like a kid again.

"Where's LeHane?" Gibbs demanded.

Xander opened his mouth to answer, but the Director beat him to it.

"I believe she will be leaving D.C. as soon as she hascleaned up. I'm sure you can understand her wariness about dealing with law enforcement?" He asked rhetorically.

"What he said," Xander agreed, coming all the way in and dropping to a chair almost in defiance. Gibbs gave him the Look that usually had all of them jumping and running around like headless chickens in every direction. He felt his back stiffen automatically. "Faith has a job to do. If we get in her way, well, let's just say it could be bad."

"I want it all, Harris," Gibbs growled almost sub-vocally.

Xander exchanged a meaningful look with Director Morrow, who raised both hands as if in surrender. "Fine. I'll spill. But on one condition: nobody else on the team gets to know."

"They _are_ investigators, Harris," Gibbs reminded the younger agent. "How long will you be able to keep this under wraps?"

"Boss, you may think you need to know this, but once you know… You'd wish you hadn't. As for the others, it's better that they don't know it at all." Xander answered simply. He wasn't looking at either of them, and there was a peculiar expression on his face.

It was for that look that Gibbs nodded. "They know something is up, though," he added.

"I can authorize it," Morrow said, when Xander shot him a questioning look.

"Thanks, Director," he said.

"Authorize what?" Gibbs demanded again.

"Memory removal," Tom Morrow said. "Or adjustment, I suppose. We'll get our stories straight later. For now, let's start in the beginning."

Xander bit back a snort, wishing Giles was in the room with them. It always sounded more reasonable if you explained it in a British accent. "The world is older than you think…" he said in a monotone.

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Patience was never his strong suit, especially when people kept trying to beat around the damned bush.

Morrow took pity on the younger agent and took over. "There are more things in heaven and on earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Gibbs gave him a perplexed look which changed to a disbelieving one when Xander asked. "What do you know about demons?"

It was as if he spoke loud and clear: _You've got to be kidding me._ So Xander pushed on. "In the beginning, the demons ruled the earth. Then the humans came and somehow drove them out. But the last demon bit a human and their blood was mingled and that created the first vampire. "

Xander could see how quickly he was losing Gibbs' interest—and respect—so he jumped over Buffy completely and went straight to the point. "The government knows about the demons existing, but they keep it hush-hush, and part of the reason why they let me join in was my prior experience. So even though it's out of my jurisdiction as an NCIS agent, I'm actually authorized to take over any crime scene if it has anything to do with the supernatural."

"What prior experience?"

"Well it's not something you can find on a résumé," Xander said biting back a grin as he imagined how that would read: _five years' experience as a sidekick, two as an amateur demon hunter_. "I… I've known about them since my sophomore year in high school. I've had some informal training from a trusted authority," he explained as vaguely as he could. "But compared to me, Faith is in her own league. She is a Jedi Master to my Padawan, so to speak."

"So what exactly is this demon in the sewers? What, an urban legend that ran amok?"

"Uh, it's a half-human, half-spider thing. Faith was after the dad who was abducting kids across the country, sort of hoarding them to feed its young. The uh, mommy and kiddies were nesting underground." Xander shuddered. "It wasn't a pretty sight."

Director Morrow checked his phone as it beeped. "Clean-up crew's done. And the kids are alright."

"So their brains are scrambled?" Gibbs asked skeptically. "How exactly does this memory thing work?"

"Well, if you can stomach believing demons, I'm sure magic's gonna be easy-peasy for ya," Xander said cheerfully.

"A demonstration'd be appreciated," Gibbs shot back.

Xander sighed. "I can't just wave my hand and chant alakazam." He mimicked a small explosion with his hands. "I do a bit of protective magic, but I'm not enough of a natural to just go fiddling around with a spell. Maybe the next time Willow visits…" He bit his lip, glancing at the director.

"Willow Rosenberg is being monitored," was Director Morrow's mild answer.

"She is?" Xander asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"Everyone involved in the incident in your file is a person of interest. Ms. Rosenberg in particular exhibits extremely high levels of power. There have been attempts to recruit her, but she doesn't seem interested in government work."

Gibbs brought down his palms on the table, hard enough to rattle the papers on top of it. "Memory spell," he got out between clenched teeth.

Xander just shrugged. "Never really had to use it, or see it in action. Where I come from, we don't need spells. People just forget things on their own."

The director took over the explanation. "According to the brief I read, the spell removes the pertinent details without impinging on regular brain functions, and this lets you make up your own stories to cover up the holes. There haven't been any negative side effects recorded."

"And the kids are better for it, trust me," Xander reassured him. "I would guess Uncle Sam would only hire the best casters anyway, so I'm sure they're gonna be safe."

This seemed to mollify Gibbs a little, until he turned to Xander again and asked. "So why exactly is Faith LeHane an expert?"

"Let me get this straight." Tony was waving his hands around like they could clear some imaginary cobwebs. "You went after some Mole People living in the sewers who kidnapped kids over state lines. And how is that your jurisdiction, anyway? Sounds like an FBI thing to me." They were sitting in the squad room, while Director Morrow and Gibbs remained upstairs, continuing their conversation about official policies on the supernatural. Xander had already been read in to those policies, so he had excused himself. The director waved him away, but Gibbs had given him a long, considering look that did not bode well.

So now Xander had to come up with some story while waiting for the government-issued magic users to come in and do their thing.

"And how would your friend Faith know about it? She's not law enforcement. Quite the opposite in fact," Kate added. Her eyes were drilling holes into Xander.

McGee looked like he wanted to chime in, too, but he held back, probably still mulling it over in his big brain.

"Faith actually works for a PI. Old friend of mine," Xander choked out the explanation with as straight a face as he could muster. He never thought he'd ever describe Angel like that. "That's why I tried not to involve you guys. It was a personal favor."

Kate's eyebrows shot up. "You worked for a private investigator? That's not in your resume."

_Along with eighty-five percent of my life_, Xander thought, rolling his eyes. "I didn't get paid for it," he informed her. They locked eyes—and imaginary horns—before Xander looked away. He sure hoped this MIB-type spell was damned effective, so his ridiculous cover story would soon fade in the rest of his team's memories. If worse came to worst, he'd just have to call Willow and request a favor.

Tony leaned back. "But still, man, you tapped that? She's way out of your league."

Kate whacked Tony on his shoulder just as McGee spoke up. "She's very…"

"Hot?" Tony asked.

"Scary," McGee finished.

Xander closed his eyes. Scary? Yeah. That, she was.

Faith, on the back seat of the first bus out of town, felt her ears itch. She pulled on one lobe absent-mindedly, and smiled at the streets passing in a blur. "Well hell, that boy got hot," she muttered under her breath, still a little jittery from a successful kill. _Too bad we didn't have time to get horizontal. _She remembered Xander's kiss at the bar. It had felt like a promise. _Maybe next time._

The morning after, he came in to work and there was no mention of Mole People or kidnapped children. Xander sat down behindhis desk and sighed in relief. It earned him a curious look from Tony. He buried his face in old paperwork, and with one hand, surreptitiously checked if his desk drawers were locked. He would have to sneak in his axe again, which had been such a pain the first time around.

Then Gibbs came in, his face expressionless but somehow harder than usual.

"Hey, Boss, weren't we working on the Worth case?" Tony asked as he rifled through his papers. "Matlock told me they got their guy last night. He was blowing a little hot air in my direction." His annoyance bled through his words.

"The director wanted us to have some down time," Gibbs explained easily.

Kate looked surprised. "He's sidelining his best team?"

"Oh, careful with that ego, Kate," Tony crowed. "You might hit the ceiling."

"D-did we do something, boss?" McGee spoke anxiously.

Xander kept his silence, even though he could feel Gibbs' eyes on him. "If you did, you'd all know it," the boss stated calmly. "Personnel have raised concerns that I've been working you through most weekends, so they got us on forced liberty. You all have this weekend off. And no coming in to the office to do paperwork." Gibbs shot a look in Tony's direction, but the agent just shrugged it off without explaining himself.

"Go have fun. Go on dates," Gibbs said exasperatedly, though there was a note of fondness in his voice as he caught Kate and McGee's eyes. "Finish all your paperwork today and then head on home." Then his tone changed, "Harris," and he tilted his head towards the elevator.

Xander bit back a sigh and stood up, ignoring the rest of the team's looks of curiosity as he jogged after his boss into the unofficial conference room.

As soon as Gibbs pressed the emergency hold button, he crossed his arms, turning the full force of his eyes on his young agent. "_You_ are going to show me one of these demons," he said.

"Boss, it's not really a good idea to mix the two…" Xander's voice faded at a glare from Gibbs. "Fine. But only if you promise to follow my lead." He tried to sound tough but his eyes were pleading. "I don't know as much as you guys think I do, but it's still better than going in blind."

"What's there to know? You said taking the heads off works for most of them."

"Demon politics, Boss. It's a lot more complicated than **'**See Demon, Kill Demon.' I can't go in there guns blazing, and neither can you. So don't bother bringing anything bigger than a pocket knife."

Demon politics? He hadenough trouble with the regular the first time, Gibbs wondered what he had gotten himself into.

Petrovich's was surprisingly quiet for a weekend. The music was the same demon Muzak with the strange underlying beats, soft enough to talk over and loud enough to dance to. But there were fewer bodies clustered on the tables or the dance floor. Xander Harris shifted on the balls of his feet, even as he checked out who was there and who wasn't. He was planning on meeting Gibbs there, but he arrived half an hour earlier to do some recon. It wouldn't do to get his boss in trouble.

He slid onto a stool by the bar and was confused by Kobal's reaction. The Treika'n wouldn't meet his eyes, though he got his usual drink and a plate of roasted peanuts.

"Hey, Bal. How's the blood sugar?" He asked as non-threateningly as possible.

"It go all the way down to the ground when your girlfriend showed up," his neighbor answered. "Next time, dude, I'd appreciate a bit of a heads up when the Slayer comes rolling into town. I just about emptied a damn candy store to keep me chillin'."

Xander winced. Of course. Faith the Vampire Slayer was probably a much bigger disruption than having Spike around. "Sorry. She was just hunting a Spidrall nest. I'm pretty sure she's out of town by now. D.C. isn't exactly a tourist spot for her."

The relief loosened Kobal's face and made his dreadlocks untwist a little, though he added, "Oh yeah? Tell that to my customers, dude. I think she made a whole Kapache clan wet their pants last night. At least she didn't kill anyone here. I heard she busted up Jerry's Hole down on 24th. It was a massacre."

Xander winced while Kobal graphically described Faith's excesses. "I'll tell her to call me next time before she comes, okay? So I can spread the word on the street first."

"And she'll listen to you?" A look of awe settled on Kobal's face, and it made Xander flush.

"No guarantees, Bal, but I can try." He cleared his throat. "But the reason I'm here is because my boss uh, found out about D.C.'s nightlife."

"LeroyJethroGibbs?" Kobal asked, pronouncing it as one whole name. He very carefully set down the glass he was wiping on the counter. Since the party at Xander's, he had come to hear a lot about his neighbor's boss. Enough to worry him. "And how did he take it?"

"That's what we're about to find out," Xander said. "I told him to meet me here. I guess it's actually a good thing the natives are laying low tonight. I don't want him to get overwhelmed."

"Why Petrovich's? LeroyJethroGibbs could get us shut down like that." Bal snapped his fingers in Xander's face. "You should have brought him somewhere else."

"Well this was the most civilized place I could think of. First impressions are important, you know." Xander felt his phone vibrate. "That must be him now. Look, just pass it on, okay? It's just a meet-and-greet sorta thing. Best behavior, right?" He looked around, making sure his words carried a bit further sothose with more sensitive hearing could pick up on it. "I'd appreciate it, guys."

Kobal nodded even as Xander stood up to head to the front door, flicking open his phone in the process. "Yeah, boss. I'm coming right out."

That night, Leroy Jethro Gibbs tried to sand his boat, but his mind was too busy, too cluttered by images and impressions. He didn't know what he was expecting. He tried not to come to a crime scene with expectations already formed. That made for sloppy investigations. But Petrovich's was like entering through a damn wardrobe door and falling into Narnia.

At least Kobal was there. Xander's next door neighbor was a familiar face, and though he had greeted Gibbs nervously, almost shyly, he never once showed any hostility, and even gave him a drink on the house. Granted, it was a fruity, girly drink that was a little too sweet, but the thought counted, and Xander assured him there weren't any strange substances in it.

He had seen a different side in the kid tonight. Harris was nervous too, at first, but as he took Gibbs around for introductions, his back had straightened out, and he lost that uncertain tone in his voice. But what impressed Gibbs were the reactions he got.

The guests were a mixed lot. He kept his promise and followed Xander's lead, keeping his game face on, and being polite, though he was a little rusty in the latter. He tried to remember all the names, but some of them were hard to pronounce. Those faces though… he'd never forget them. He met one that looked like a porcupine, with bright yellow quills. Another one was as big as a linebacker, and had a face made of granite, literally, though his eyes were a very normal brown. There were two tourists from Florida, wearing Hawaiian shirts over their green-gray bodies. They looked like aliens who escaped from a theme park. He'd seen a woman with two tails, another with sunken eyes and sallow, gray skin looking very much like a walking corpse.

How do you read the reactions of creatures like those? Not too badly, apparently. Some of them seemed to twitch considerably when Harris approached; they turned their bodies away, and couldn't look him in the eye—most of them _did_ have eyes. Then he realized they were inching away from _Harris,_ not him. His agent seemed to notice him noticing, but he just laughed it off, making a lame joke about his body odor.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't press the issue. By now, he was used to Harris' deflection. It was something the young agent shared with DiNozzo, although Tony tended to prefer exaggeration rather than self-deprecation.

All throughout the night, he didn't know what to do with his hands, whether to offer them to the creatures he met, or shove them in his pockets, so they'd stop itching for a weapon of any kind. Now those hands were starting to find their rhythm as he worked on a plank of the boat. He let the work consume him, even as his brain chanced upon an idea: he wanted to see Xander Harris in action.

A/N: Any mistakes left are mine, after ignoring my beta's well-meaning advice. I'm sorry to say that the next chapter is just blank page at this stage, as I'll have to review old notes again to figure out what will happen next. I do have a plan, but it's pretty vague, so any suggestions are welcome. Thanks for everyone who reviewed!


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